The morning light brought new faces.

Sandhailer was woken up from a short slumber by the medicine woman that had aided them. He stood up and stretched his arms above his head. A groan escaped him as frantically clawing at sand dunes had left him stiff and sore.

The healer led him into the main room, which amounted to little more than a rudimentary kitchen. Curious smelling herbs and strange ingredients filled racks and boiled in pots on the fire.

A man was seated at the table, awaiting his arrival. He bore a bushy mane and beard, in which craggly grey hairs had begun to appear. Simple but layered robes adorned him in a varied patchwork of common colours: earthy reds, faded yellows and dark greens. The elder was not affiliated with the empire, although presumed to be begrudgingly acquaintanced. 

Towns as small and isolated as these were unimportant: there was no direct governing. A sparse guard patrol, occasional visits of officials, and the yearly tax collectors were enough to keep the tithes coming in. And that was all that mattered.

"Elder." Sandhailer addressed the man with a respectful nod of his head.

"Rubaan." The man responded while reaching his hand out. As he had done before with the healer's apprentice, he held the man's hand in both of his for a moment as a sign of respect. 

He pulled the chair beside the man up, and sat down with little regard for posture.

"My sailer crashed during the storm, I need the spare. Mine may have hit the wall, it should be near the town. You can repair it." Sandhailer dug around in his pouch, and took out two golden kurus – plenty for the wood and the craftsmanship.

The elder took a quiet sip of his brew, and quickly laid a hand over the golden coins. They vanished into a fold of the cloth.

"Why did you bring the jayir." Oppressor. The elder gave a nod at the door, behind which Swordeater laid.

"Convenience." Sandhailer responded, to which the elder immediately scoffed.

"He would not return half the kindness."

"I don't need kindness. I need money, and favours owed from Jawhara are worth more than kindness." Sandhailer explained.

"For you." The elder said, after another sip. "All there is for us is blame for not notifying that he was here."

Knowing well enough what the man was hinting at, Sandhailer took out another kurus. Enough for a dangerous secret. It too vanished immediately.

"A new set of clothes, and he was never here." Sandhailer stated. It appeared the man could agree with those conditions, giving a short nod

"The empire pays you well, Rubaan."

"I make sure they do." He responded in a cool tone.

"Well enough to scrape their filth from the desert?"

Sandhailer remained silent, to which the elder shook his head. The man stood up, and announced he was leaving loud enough for the old woman to hear him from the other room. She crowed an approving noise back. 

The elder placed one hand on the back of his chair, leaning in to meet his gaze. He defiantly stared back against the disapproval.

"Remember, they will never be on your side."

He did not respond, maintaining eye contact while his gaze darkened, as if to say he understood well enough.

"Thank you, for your advice and kindness." He continued firmly, which prompted a slow nod from the elder. His eyes stalked the man as he left the room in a huff, until the door fell shut behind him.

Sandhailer shook his head, and rested both his hands on the table. He cracked his knuckles and frowned, before glancing over at the room where Swordeater was resting.

It would've been easier to cut his throat.